


Serving the King

by EisDrachenErbe



Category: Bleach
Genre: AU - Prostitution District, Light BDSM, Multi, Post WWIII AU, characters to be added as they appear
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-08
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-04-03 10:38:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4097851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EisDrachenErbe/pseuds/EisDrachenErbe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Toshiro Hitsugaya was a new prostitute of the 10th Division’s Pleasure District. On the verge of getting kicked out, he unwittingly captures the attention of one Grimmjow Jagerjaquez, one of the Espada with money to burn – and his gamble of freedom turns into an even bigger gamble for the man’s permanent patronage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Division 10 Beauty

Toshiro’s fingers smooth the soft fabric of his kimono. He hates wearing western clothing – while everyone else is fond of the revealing dresses and tight-fitting suits, the freshly legal teen had decided against it, choosing to – reluctantly – enhance his childlike appearance with the oft-unused kimono that their branch held.

Toshiro was a part of the Gotei 13, an extensive military organization that had saved much of Japan from the downwards spiral that had enveloped the large countries after the devastating effects of World War III. Their severe sectioning of the essential divisions of life had started small – food, resources, and military planning. It had since branched out to the beautiful, sprawling metropolis and country that had risen from the ashes of Japan, freshly renamed to Soul Society. Now, they were a military superpower, strong enough to withstand any attacks from the former American superpower or the other countries that dared try to force Soul Society’s hand.

Of course, with the Soul Society’s growth, there became a growing need for. . . other . . . desires and wants. Some of the divisions were repurposed and designed with a new mindset, to better serve the military. They became focused on entertaining their military superiors.

Specifically with  _adult_ entertainment.

And now Toshiro would become one of them. There was a very, very small niche for eastern-based entertainers, but he hoped that such traditional methods would coerce only more _refined_ individuals. Nearby, his former caretaker grins, adjusting her tight-fitting dress as she eagerly awaits the arrival of her patron.

“Aw c’mon Toshiro,” Matsumoto grins, leans in to press her breasts against his back hugging him, “Try something new! I know for a fact that you in a suit would have the ladies aaaaalll over you,” She grins, wiggles her fingers up in greeting when another worker passes them by. They roll their eyes in exasperation, stalk off in a huff. Toshiro couldn't blame him.

“No.” He answers her bluntly. Matsumoto sighs, and kisses his temple.

“I hope you know what you’re doing Toshiro…” She says, somber and serious. Being kicked out of any division – no matter the kind – often left those who abandoned it on the bottom of the totem pole. Even the Rukongai – the filthiest, most depraved part of Soul Society – wouldn’t take them.

His eyes meet hers in the mirror, and he smiles, soft and gentle, like the first time they met.

“I do. I promise.” He says reassuringly. The woman pulls away, kisses his forehead and flattens down an unruly fringe. She can’t say more, because in a single moment, the bell rings, signaling the opening of the 10 Division’s Pleasure District. Toshiro slid into his place at the bar, eyes lingering on Matsumoto as she ran to greet a silver-haired man upon his entrance.

* * *

God Grimmjow was bored. The Espada rocked his head from side to side, clicking his tongue impatiently off of the roof of his mouth.

“What’s the point of this?” He grumbles irritably at Nnoitra, who chuckles at him. The freakishly tall Espada merely laughs, and spreads out a hand.

“For us, or for them?” Nnoitra asks, smirking wickedly. When Grimmjow returns his smirk with a scowl, the fifth Espada sighs and claps him on the shoulder.

“Look, this is just Aizen’s way of telling you to loosen up. Find someone to have sex with, pay ‘em, and be done with the whole deal. It’s obvious fighting isn’t helping you as much as it used to, especially now that you’re missin’ that arm of yours.” The blue-haired Espada jerks away, scowling furiously.

His arm was still a sore topic, and even though he was missing an arm, he was no less dangerous for the lack of it.

“Watch it asshole,” Grimmjow snarls furiously, eyes alight with bright blue fire. “Before I take a page out of Tousen’s book and take off _your_ arm.” Nnoitra snorts, and backs off – Grimmjow’s always made good on threats.

“Ain’t going to get yourself any tail like that,” He says to the irritable Espada, who merely chuffs and leans back against his chair.

“Wouldn’t want any if you touched them.” He fires back, gets an amused laugh for his troubles.

“Definitely not with that mouth!” He laughs aloud, and ambles his way towards a dark-haired woman with a lecherous grin. Grimmjow looks away with irritation, spots a head of soft white hair, a stand out in the waves of amber to black. He’s wearing a kimono – eastern attire is a rarity around here. Suddenly interested, Grimmjow pulls his feet off of the table, the legs of his chair gently clicking back down to the ground. He leans forward, blue eyes taking in every inch of the small youth.

He could not be old enough to be here – unless that outfit of his made him look younger. Startlingly, Grimmjow realized he was _interested_ in the white haired shrimp, whose blue eyes pierced his. The boy looks slightly startled, before a growing smirk crosses their soft lips. He winks, runs a soft tongue over plump lips, and returns to wiping the counter down and serving sake.

Grimmjow’s lone arm reaches out, and he snags a passing waitress. She giggles and turns to him, bending down to give him a generous view of her assets hopefully.

“What’s his name?” He asks, tilts his head towards the boy at the counter. The woman – rather predictably – looks put out, but answers him anyways, voice sour.

“Toshiro Hitsugaya – just turned legal last year.” Grimmjow smirks, and eyes the boy. Just turned legal. . . He liked the sound of that, a fresh toy to play with.

“Alright then – get your boss. I want him.” The girl’s expression turns to surprise, and she scuttles off, stunned.

* * *

 

Toshiro’s about to head off and serve another table of rowdy drunks when the dreaded words come from behind him.

“You’ve got a customer.” The waitress doesn’t even bother to hide her displeasure, snatching the tray and stalking off, leaving his hands empty of their purpose and his stalling tactic. Toshiro removes the apron with nervous hands, the boy walking towards the Division Head.

“In there,” Isshin says brusquely, ruffling his hair. “You be careful, okay?” Toshiro scowls slightly, ducks the ruffle of hair with a flat look in his direction.

To his surprise, it’s set up in the eastern style, the handsome man from before sitting there, a smirk on handsome features. It wasn’t a kind smirk either – this was the kind a hunter made when they spotted their prey. He bows, low and obedient, and doesn’t move until the man calls for him.

“C’mere.” The man’s voice is a rich baritone, and Toshiro savors the voice for a moment before straightening and walking over, feet gliding elegantly over the mats. “You any good at making tea?” He asks, blue eyes appreciatively looking him over. Toshiro swallows dryly, but nods, his head dipping down obediently in the semblance of a nod.

“Yes my lord.” He answers, slips into the deferential mode he’d been trained to answer with. The man chuckles, and props his head up on his only hand.

“My lord…” The word is tested in that luxurious velvet voice, and the rough chuckle sounds again. “My name is Grimmjow Jagerjaquez, boy.” Toshiro’s heart nearly stops.

An _Espada_. The elite of the elite, men and women who only answered to the head of the Arrancar program. He forces himself not to pass out from shock and disbelief, bows again.

“It is an honor to make your acquaintance, Lord Grimmjow.” He answers softly, before finally moving stiff arms into compliance. “This humble servant aims to please.”

* * *

 

The kid’s even better looking up close – Grimmjow admires him as he prepares the blue-haired Espada a cup of tea. The childish appearance is _definitely_ deliberate, but the mature edge glittering in those eyes sparked a more carnal interest that had everything to do with the way he bent over as he prepared tea. The attitude he'd been warned of - that had apparently gotten this kid into trouble - was nowhere in sight, and if anything, he seemed almost too submissive. Deciding to test the waters, the Espada reaches out a hand, running a finger along the edge of his collar. The boy tenses, and his lips curl into the faintest frown, lashes lowering as he focused on making the tea.

Ooh. A touchy one – even better. This kid had to have buttons he didn’t like being pressed. He moves his fingers away from the collar and the boy relaxes, even as long fingers drift over the back of his neck, thread through thick white locks. He yanks, and their eyes meet, the boy’s hands perfectly still even as he holds the cup in slightly shaking hands. Grimmjow grins at the faintest edge of _fear_ and _defiance_ , and he chuckles, lets go of the small boy to trace a jaw with a finger. The boy hands him his cup of tea, and for the next few minutes it’s absolutely silent.

The click of a cup signifies his completion of the drink, and he gives a satisfied smile.

“Wonderful,” He compliments, reaching out again, this time sliding his fingers underneath the robe, testing to see if the spark he’d seen before was just a flash of his imagination –

The ringing slap as his hand was moved away made him raise an eyebrow. That was definitely bolder than he'd expected.

“I’m not quite so cheap as to be taken as someone’s conquest on the first night.” His eyes are filled with a mix of defiance and terror – he _knows_ Grimmjow has killed for less – and he still stands by his words. “It will take more than compliments to see what is under my robes.” He maintains a cool edge, and Grimmjow grins wider.

Now this was what he wanted. Someone with _fire_. Grimmjow’s fingers curl back around his neck, and the man tangles his fingers in thick white hair once more.

“I suppose I’ll just have to work for it then,” He answers, voice husky with the delight of a challenge. He pulls the boy for a kiss, and the boy – suddenly braver now that he knows Grimmjow is playing with him – merely frees himself, tilting his head away and smirking wickedly at him in challenge.

“I’m not so easy to taste,” He tells the suddenly _hungry_ man before him. “You’ll have to work for it to enjoy any piece of me.” Grimmjow can’t help it – the feral grin that crosses his lips is nothing short of viciously delighted.

A _hunt_. Oh, he’d get his pretty little prey, and he’d _savor_ every second.

“Count on it…” Grimmjow growls; the eagerness for a new toy even stronger.

It’d been some time since anyone had dared try a game of cat and mouse with _him_.


	2. Offers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day after, Grimmjow learns perhaps there's something more he wants than just an endless game of cat and mouse between a one night stand, and Toshiro learns he may want to stay after all.

Grimmjow had spent a surprisingly enjoyable evening talking politics with the small, handsome teenager, whose blue eyes had been as sharp as his wit and as dark as his humor. Humming, the Espada pushed the door to his quarters open, arm swinging cheerfully back and forth.

“Grimm!” A cheerful female voice in his living room only made him slide his blue eyes towards her; a smile twitches his lips up, a far cry from his usual half-scowl towards his favorite Espada.

“Nel.” He rumbles, spreads his arm out without being prompted. His sister flings herself into his arms, wrapping her arms around his chest, as he gently squeezes her waist.

“You look cheerful,” She remarks as she pulls away, quivering on her the pads of her toes in eagerness. “Ooh – did you get a _boyfriend_?” She teases, and Grimmjow chuckles, ruffles her hair, notes absently that her mask was nowhere in sight.

“Of a kind,” He agrees with her, lips forming his more traditional smirk. “He’s cute enough – and has a sharp tongue,” He chuckles, recalling the rather biting reply that the boy had given him, filled with challenge and quiet not quite teasing. His eyes glaze over, remember the single, chaste kiss that he had managed to get out of the boy at the end of the evening, before his eyes clear with realization.

_Fuck. I forgot to ask his name._ Nel grins knowingly at him, and before she says anything, he jabs a finger at her nose. “Don’t even.” She relents, giggling at him.

“Oh, I don’t have to,” She had the gall to look _amused_ , the third Espada laughs. “You know exaaactly what I was going to say! What’s the point of telling you what you already know?” She teases, pokes his chest.

He scowls, bats the offending limb away, before shaking his head and moving to take a shower.

“Did Aizen-Sama call?” He asks, pulling off his jacket as his sister squeals and covers her face with a mock-disgusted look. “I’m going to shower, Jesus woman,” He grumbles, leaving the door open.

“No,” She answers after a moment, before making a face at the door. “But we still have a meeting in an hour.” He gives a low groan, sighs to himself.

“Fuck… I forgot about that. Who are we meeting again?” He calls out over the sound of running water.

“Uhh… Someone called Soifon or something.” The woman answers, picking up one of his magazines. “See you there!” She says cheerfully, taking it with her.

“Put it back first Neliel!” He yells back, prompting the disappointed woman to deposit the magazine back on the table.

“Damn…” She pouts. “So close.”

* * *

 

Oh gods…

“Kill me now,” Grimmjow hissed at a snickering Nnotria, long fingers kneading at his forehead as the meeting dragged on, not even remotely interested in the discussion. His opinion wasn’t actually warranted here – his opinion was mostly on the latter half of these things – weapons testing and explosive compounds.

“Nah – let the bitch woman do it for you.” He whispers back, snickering quietly. Nnoitra had some weird rivalry with that Soifon woman – Grimmjow assumed it was jealousy, but he was wise enough not to point that out. Neliel nearly got killed for doing so, though that may have been because Nnoitra was a chauvinist idiot.

Entertaining, but still. Idiot. Grimmjow entertains himself until the meeting is over, and Soifon is dismissed, thoroughly pleased with herself – though she still managed a glare at their general direction. The man sighs, shakes his head in the general direction of the man, before he mutters something and pulls his own papers towards him. It was almost time for his presentation.

* * *

 

Toshiro was not having a good day. Last night had been fun – enjoyable even – but the reactions by some of the pettier women had left him with a bruise on his face and a seething Matsumoto. Toshiro had rather bluntly been shuffled to a solo room – apparently patronage from an Espada was a _very big_ deal. The small male sighs, smoothing foundation over the last edges of the bruise before he stands up and takes a tea set, carrying it carefully into the room.

“Toshiro!” Matsumoto beams at him, before frowning and gently holding him still. “Give me a second.” She gently sweeps the last of his makeup out to smooth away the last imperfections. “There, much better. You get the room ready – your guest is going to be heading straight there.” She pats his head, teary with happiness.

“I’m so proud of you,” She sniffles, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Toshiro accepts the affection with a light smile. “Now you go and have fun, okay?” Toshiro rolls his eyes fondly at her, but leaves as she gently orders.

* * *

 

Grimmjow’s eyes pick up on the dusting of makeup, but decides to wait – he’s burning with curiosity and irritation.

“You’re late,” He accuses, knows that if anything, he’s early. Toshiro gives him an amused look, an almost haughty smirk on pretty features.

“I am never late. Everyone else is merely early.” Toshiro replies bluntly, and Grimmjow can’t help but chuckle. He knows all it would literally take to have this boy as his would be a single order, but the games this one insisted on were much too fun for him to straight-up order him to cease them. It was amusing to enjoy a little bit of hard to get, especially when every other cheap whore rather literally threw themselves at him.

“Even when I’m the one paying for your service?” Grimmjow asks with a snort, watching him as he sets up a teapot. Toshiro kneels down, gives him a sly smile that makes Grimmjow’s spine shiver with pleasure.

“Even. After all, waiting only _heightens_ the pleasure, doesn’t it?” His lips curl into a sly smirk, and Grimmjow laughs openly at that, eyes the curve of his figure as he bends down to continue what he’s doing, steady fingertips measuring out scoops of tea between precise measurements. He can’t help but reach out, trace a finger against the dusting of makeup.

“It doesn’t have anything to do with this, does it?” Grimmjow asks huskily, his fingers removing the smear of makeup to expose the dark bruise underneath. Toshiro doesn’t even flinch, blue eyes cutting to him, searching his expression for … something, Grimmjow doesn’t know. Seemingly satisfied, he turns away back to his work, setting the teacup in front of him and wiping his finger clean of the makeup.

“Even if it did, would I tell you?” He asks, voice low and quietly amused. Grimmjow huffs, amusement curling his lips. “You may be a patron of our humble establishment, but we keep our words and internal disputes away from those that live on the other side of the red line.” Grimmjow notes the edge of seriousness, and cups his chin, tilting his head down.

“And if I was your patron alone?” He asks, observes as a stunned edge curls over frail features. Satisfied that he had won this particular little verbal sparring, he returns to his tea, taking a sip of sweet jasmine, the taste a sweet reminder of victory. He tugs the boy closer once his cup is finished, and runs his napkin over makeup, exposing the darkening bruise to dark, hungry eyes. “Would you tell me everything without reservation?” He breathes quietly into an ear. “Name and all?” Toshiro manages a soft squeak, face flush with something akin to want.

* * *

Toshiro leaves that particular meeting in a daze, returning to his room with something between shock and awe in his mind.

_Patronage_. He just offered Toshiro _patronage_. Serious or not, the fact that he mentioned it would set their division for _years_ , just like Gin’s patronage had set them for nearly five years, allowing Toshiro to wait until he was legal to become an entertainer. Matsumoto wheels out of her room, takes a look at the expression on his face, and grins.

“You have to tell me _everything._ ”

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Thanks for reading this chapter - This was a spur of the moment thing and I hope that you all enjoy this regardless of whether or not you like the pairing.


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